School Raffles and almost first kisses.
My primary school had a summer fete. Parents only Tombola's where you could win tins of Beetroot, listeria ridden home-made pork pies or that dusty bottle of booze that the rich kids parents had bought back from their annual trip to Puerto Buenos. If you were lucky you got to throw a wet sponge at the headmistress and watch your dad pretend he didn't care if he won the Father's Race while surreptitiously stretching his hamstrings and doing star jumps behind the chicken hut.

And then there was the raffle. A fine collection of cakes and damaged toys and knitting patterns for Giles Brandreth-esque jumpers to be won along with a couple of genuine treasures, including a boxed Star Wars Snow Speeder and football signed by Bobby Moore. So I clutched my tickets in my sweaty six year old hands and hoped that I'd get something good. The first ticket was called and the Star Wars toy was taken. The next person chose the football, a few other prizes went and I was sad. But then my ticket got called, so I trudged up despondently and ungratefully to take my pick of the remaining dregs of so-called prizes on the table, only to brighten up considerably when I saw that still there was an unboxed, well played with but fundamentally undamaged X-Wing Fighter, which I grabbed with glee and ran back to my parents, flying it above my head all the way only to have to turn around and go back to pick something else when straight away the next number called was also one of mine. By now, I didn't care, I was happy, so faced with a table of broken Rubik’s cubes and out of date hampers I would have taken anything, but I was struck by inspiration and picked up the raggedy but sweet looking knitted doll to what I am sure were looks of bemusement and scorn. I then walked proudly over to where my friend Joanna was sitting and gave it to her. And she smiled like I'd never seen a girl smile before, took it and without a word to me proudly showed her Dad, who told her kindly but firmly that she should say thank you to me. And she did. And kissed me on the cheek and over the course of the afternoon became my 'girlfriend'.

She broke my heart two days later when she decided she preferred Richard, mind you.
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Tue 3 May 2011, 16:47, 4 replies)

Aww....
Sweet.
(ConanTroutman thought we would free the vulture, Tue 3 May 2011, 17:24, closed)

Richard?
Richard is a fucking fanny magnet.....you never stood a chance!
(CADmonkey rollllllllled another one, just like the other one, Tue 3 May 2011, 20:17, closed)

I heard she was a bit of a slag
anyway.
(username failed moderation, Wed 4 May 2011, 8:18, closed)

women are bastards.

(leviticus no longer likes the cut of your gib on, Wed 4 May 2011, 13:51, closed)